


Highway to Hell

by bothetrashmouth



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anti-religious thoughts, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Running Away, i promise im not anti religion or anything its just where the fic led
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bothetrashmouth/pseuds/bothetrashmouth
Summary: Eddie runs away from Derry and his desperation to escape overrides his paranoia when making a new friend. This new friend, however, seems to be everything his hometown was against.





	Highway to Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theaprilshowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaprilshowers/gifts).



> My piece for @theaprilshowers for the IT chapter two fic exchange! I hope you enjoy it, it was fun to write! I may make this into a series, if people are so interested… we’ll see…

Eddie heard him before he pulled up. Before the car lights filtered their way through the fog and the pouring rain, Eddie heard the loud pop music.

Not pop, that’s not the right word. More like… gospel. Pop gospel. It sounded like a preacher singing with a powerful and deep voice. It made Eddie shiver. He hated preachers and he hated gospel music. The lyrics didn’t really match it, though, which was almost comforting.

The light finally came through, blooming into Eddie’s vision, blinding him as it came his way. The music got louder, the silhouette of the car more defined with every beat of the song.

Eddie probably looked awful, hunched over, dripping wet from the rain, shivering, with nothing more than a backpack and a hoodie, walking down the highway at two am.

Because yeah, that’s where he’s at, this point in his life. Eddie Kaspbrak was running away from home.

The car slowed significantly as it passed Eddie, it was almost comical enough, Eddie almost laughed. He settled for a loose snort instead. Then the car stopped and the window, which had been rolled up and too steamed to see through, rolled down. A light in the car turned on and Eddie couldn’t see much more than the fact that this stranger had very curly hair. Two particular tufts looked almost symmetrical, on either side of their head. Like horns.

Luckily, it wasn’t curly like his mother’s hair was, so Eddie wasn’t too concerned. This was clearly someone he didn’t know.

“Hey stranger.” the driver said. His voice was deep and smooth, it was like the auditory version of melted chocolate. It was alluring.

Eddie stopped walking. No - he wasn’t really walking, more like stalking. Sulking.

“It looks like it’s gonna rain, you got a coat, or umbrella?” the stranger’s voice was amused, if he could see his face, Eddie would guess the stranger was smiling.

Eddie glared over to the driver, who was still invisible in the silhouette of the car light. Eddie wondered if the driver could see _him_.

“You want a ride?”

That stopped Eddie a bit. Mentally he stumbled. His heart lurched at the concept of getting in a car with a stranger. At two am.

All things considered, though, everything about what’s happened today is insane. This isn’t too disorienting. And besides, he could spite his mother.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asked back. He sounded really hoarse, voice rough from crying and not talking over the past week. He felt water drip off his lips and chin. Fuck it was really coming down, huh?

“Anywhere.” The driver responded after a beat of silence. (Not really silence, the rain was loud, his car was still running, and the music was still booming, though it did seem like the music was turned down.) “You’re looking at a grade A vagabond.”

Eddie had heard about people like this before - never in a good light. Always seems like they betrayed God, or something. That’s how Mama always put it.

Well fuck, if Eddie wanted to do _anything_ right now, it was betray God. He betrayed Eddie, reciprocation, you know?  

The driver tilted his head a bit, and a glare of light passed over his features, fixating over his eyes. They were vibrant blue, surrounded by pale, skin.

 _Only then I am human._ The car sang. Eddie felt his heart thump.

“Okay.”

_Only then I am clean._

Eddie crossed the street, and felt like he was crossing some invisible threshold. A part of him felt like he was crossing into hell, and this driver, the Devil.

He walked past the front of the car, and to the passenger’s side door. Hesitation sparked at his fingertips. Once he did this, there was no going back.

 _Come home Eddie!_ His mother whined into his ear. _Please don’t leave me for this filthy runaway!_

A dozen voices all at once found their way into Eddie’s head, giving him a feeling of being split open. Words from people he knew - he had seen, or interacted with not 24 hours ago - crawled out from the depths of where Eddie had repressed it, and burned their way down his scalp.

_No one likes a sinner, Eddie!_

_Come home, confess to your sins._

_We can help you Eddie!_

The door opened.

“It’s unlocked, Stranger.” The driver told him.

Eddie blinked, and crawled into the car.

The harsh orange lighting of the inside of the car was far different to the cold, dark blue and black of the side of the road. Felt good to rest his feet though. Eddie’s mind supplied for the symbolism.

He hadn’t looked at the driver yet. He couldn’t bring himself to look. Something about it seemed sacred.

“So,” The driver asked. He was turned into fetch something from the backseat.

“You runnin’ from something or did you just get lost?”

“Running.” Eddie said simply.

The driver let out a long, steady hum. The noise made Eddie’s heart stutter. Everything about this... It made Eddie uneasy. He felt lost, and paranoid. More so than he had. Maybe it was the effects of running away. Or maybe just catching a cold

“You wanna tell me your name, stranger?”

 _Eddie,_ he thought. _My name is Eddie Kaspbrak and I want to find a new home because my old one was crap and everyone I knew made me feel like a mistake please help me please please please._

“Stranger is fine.” he lied.

A towel fell on Eddie’s lap where he had been staring at the wet hem of his shorts. He jumped at the sudden contact - the driver pushed one of Eddie’s curls back behind his ear. It left a burning sensation.

“Stranger it is then.”

Eddie had a sour feeling in his stomach that this driver already knew his name, but he picked up and used the towel anyway.

He glanced over to the driver without thinking about it, and caught himself staring at the drivers hands, rather than seeing his face.

The driver had very long, nimble fingers, and callous hands. All adorned with shiny jewelry. Expensive rings with gems, beautiful designs or eye catching intricacies. They were really nice. There was, however, one that made Eddie nervous, a glossy black skull ring, on his right ring finger. It stared right into Eddie’s heart, piercing his soul.

_No one likes a sinner, Eddie._

“I can take it off.” The driver told Eddie, and Eddie’s blood ran cold. “The ring. I can take it off, if it’s upsetting.”

“How’d you know I was staring at it?” Eddie blurted.

“I just did.”

_The Devil wants only to hurt you. That’s what I heard anyway. That’s what my dad told me._

Eddie looked away from the driver and continued to roughly dry his hair.  “Sorry for getting your car wet.”

“This isn’t my car. I’m only using it.”

Eddie slowed. “Did you steal it?”

“No.”

The driver turned on the engine instead of elaborating.

“Don’t worry about it, okay Eddie?”

Eddie couldn’t stop himself from gasping. It was quiet, yes, but it was audible. How did he know his name? God.

Something about that thought almost led to a snort. Or maybe a nervous giggle. _God_ . Nothing about any of this has _God_ involved.

The driver shifted in his seat. The light clicked off.

They started to drive, slowly, very slowly pick up the pace as they pulled back onto the highway, like the driver was giving Eddie one final chance to escape.

Eddie didn’t know the Devil was so patient or giving.

“We’re going in the wrong direction.” Eddie said suddenly. They were going back home. No, not home. Just.. to town. Back to Derry.

“That’s not where you want to go?” The driver asked smoothly, car still speeding up.

“Anywhere but there.” Eddie said, and then really wished he hadn’t. “Please.”

This felt like the opposite of confessing to a priest. He was pleading to the Devil.

“Surely, there’s somewhere else you want to go?” The Devil - no, the driver, asked.

“Not really. Just not back there.”

The car came to a brisk stop. The driver turned and began to speed down the highway in the opposite direction. Something in Eddie felt at ease. He wasn’t going back. He would never see those people again. He would never have to worry about The Lord or church or sinning or anything, ever again. The only thing he would ever need a bible for is fire fuel.

“Tell me, Eddie.” The driver asked in that rich voice of his. Hearing him say Eddie’s name made him feel more singled out than he had in a long, long time. “What did they do to you?”

There was the clicking noise of a lighter, and the faint smell of a cigarette made its way to Eddie’s nose. The back windows went down. The driver sped up.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How did they hurt you, Eddie?”

“No one hurt me.”

Eddie was starting to feel sick. This driver, stranger, smoker, sinner, demon- how did he know so much about Eddie? If he knew so much, why bother asking?

There was a pause.

“Do you want something to eat? I passed a fast food place not 20 clicks back. You would’ve passed it too, if you’d walked for another hour.”

Eddie stared at his shoes. They were still soaked, and they were gross. “I don’t have any money.”

The first flash of anger - or maybe annoyance - passed subtly through the driver’s voice.

“I didn’t ask if you had _money_ .” he stirred. “I asked if you were _hungry_.”

“I... I’m hungry. Yes, please.” Eddie murmured.

“Good, because we’re stopping.”

It was at that point where Eddie realized that the same song had been on loop this whole time. _Maybe I’m not in hell yet_. He thought hopefully. He wasn’t sure why he was hopeful.

* * *

 

The car pulled into the parking lot, the bright lights of the restaurant hurt Eddie’s eyes.

“C’mon Eddie.”

Trying to repress the feeling he got in his stomach every time the driver said his name, Eddie got out of the car and followed up to the stranger all the way inside the restaurant.

“I’ll get food - go sit somewhere.” The driver told Eddie. It didn’t really seem like a demand - more like a recommendation, a suggestion.

The place was practically empty, but Eddie felt overly compelled to choose a booth in the corner, his back to a wall, staring out the window. For a minute, he watched the rain pour, all the street lights, the cars that passed. The two cars that passed for the duration of Eddie’s staring.

Then Eddie looked back to his escort. The strange, ambiguous man. He wasn’t facing Eddie, and Eddie let his eyes study and wander.

His escort was wearing black skinny jeans, yellow shoes, and a large leather jacket covered in patches. On the back was a painted raccoon, wearing glasses. It said loser’s club above it.

His hair was black as well, and curly. The horns Eddie thought were there were still there, but the bright lights assured Eddie it was just hair.

The escort turned back to the table Eddie was sitting at and Eddie quickly whipped his head back out the window.

He still couldn’t believe he was doing this. Running away? Eating greasy food with some stranger - a runaway - who seems to embody the devil but also makes Eddie think those _filthy_ things his mother made him resent?

In theory, he _could_ leave. He could grab his bag and run out the front door and back out down the highway, and run all the way to the next town over. He’d be scot free. He traced his finger down the route to prove it, looking out the window down the road to see if there was anything else out there. There wasn’t.

“Next town is about a 30 minute drive. We can hit a motel there.” The escort said, putting a tray onto the table and collapsing into the seat across from Eddie.

His sudden presence made Eddie jump and fall back facing forward to his seat, looking straight at the stranger, and his face.

His skin was pale and his eyes were still really blue, enlarged behind big aviator glasses. There was a glint of carelessness - but not dismissiveness -  in them. He had a long, thin face with a beauty mark under one eye, a crooked nose and a splatter of freckles. He was…

Eddie gulped. He was _really_ attractive.

Something about seeing his face humanized him greatly, and Eddie didn’t feel so scared any more.

“I got you a burger and large fries. And Cola.” the escort said, passing said meal to Eddie, who was still staring. “Hope that’s okay.”

“How’d you know my name?” Eddie thought aloud.

The escort smiled, a large, blooming grin showing off a retainer. He looked around Eddie’s age.

“It’s on your sweatshirt.” he grinned.

Eddie looked down at his hoodie, and lo and behold, carefully stitched in over his heart, his mother had put _Eddie K_. It was probably seen when Eddie was staring at the stranger’s rings. The realization made him blush a deep red.

“Oh.” he said dumbly. He dug into his burger. He was so hungry, he hadn’t realized until he started wolfing it down.

“I know you were looking at the skull ring ‘cause it’s the one people always like the most. Everyone stares at it.” The stranger continued. “And for the record, you shouldn’t be scared of me. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I’m not scared. Never was.” Eddie lied. Big lie.

The stranger smiled again, this time between bites of chicken nuggets. “Sure.” he cooed.

Eddie’s ears burned.

“So, motel? Is that okay?”

“Um.. yeah okay.” he decided. Might as well.

“Great.”

They ate in silence, with Eddie scarfing down all the food, and then some of his new friend’s (are they friends now?) and his driver pointing out every time someone went by, like he was waiting for someone.

“Why were you leaving?” Eddie asked, after much thinking.

The driver hummed.  “Hmmm?”

“You were coming from Derry. Why were you leaving?”

“Picking someone up.” was the response. He failed to elaborate.

Eddie frowned. “You were the only one in the car.”

“Nope.”

A flash of fear came back to squeeze around Eddie’s gut.

“Who?”

The stranger grinned, and it was still light-hearted.

“You don’t know my name but you wanna know my friends? Wow.” He said sarcastically.

“Well,” Eddie fought the flush rising in his cheeks. “What’s your name?”

“I tell you when I feel like it.”

Eddie dropped a little. “I’m not allowed to know anything about you, am I?”

Another, bigger grin. “Should’a asked earlier, Doll.”

The nickname _Doll_ and the connotations to it made Eddie shift uncomfortably.

“What? You don’t like pet names?”

“I’m not a pet.”

 _And it’s not natural._ Eddie’s brain told him _. It’s not natural Eddieeeeeee-_

“Eds. How’s that? Not a pet name.”

“My name is Eddie.”

“So I’ve heard.”

The stranger then gave Eddie a shit-eating grin, like he got what he wanted. Eddie picked up the garbage remains of the meal and walked away with the tray.

He threw out everything as he heard the front door open and close, by the time he had finished sorting the trash, he had turn to see his driver was already in the car.

A part of Eddie thought the driver was going to leave Eddie at the restaurant and disappear forever, and the idea felt both real and unsettlingly awful. Without dwelling on it, Eddie made a beeline for the car, climbing in and shaking his head a bit after getting rained on. His driver was fiddling with the stereo.

The on-loop not-gospel that had been playing was traded for up beat pop with lyrics that didn’t sound super happy, but it was something the driver could clearly dance to, because that’s what he did, bopping in his seat as he turned the engine on again and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Thomas.”

The driver frowned with a playful grin. “What?”

“I’m guess names for you.” Eddie told him. Thomas could suit his face, but not his personality. At least what Eddie knew of his personality.

“Well, that’s not it.”

“Jacob?”

“No.”

“Finn!”

“ _Wrong_.”

“Ezra?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Bill.”

The driver laughed, a deep, throaty noise that made Eddie smile a bit, too. “Not even close! I have a friend named Bill though.”

Eddie smiled to himself as his driver turned up the music a bit. He leaned back in his seat. He felt oddly calm, compared to his intense paranoia from earlier. Maybe he had just been really hungry.

His driver began to sing to the music a bit, and Eddie, who recognized the song, hummed along.

It felt so cliche, driving around at almost four in the morning, singing to dumb pop songs on his driver’s CD of “2000s Greatest Hits” (He made it) and laughing at the ridiculous voices that the driver did.

Time flew by as Eddie let himself get lost in the music and cliche happiness of it all, and then they were pulling into a motel parking lot, trying to catch their breaths.

The driver stopped the car, but made no move to leave.

“Richie.”

Eddie dropped his hand off the door handle. “Pardon?”

“My name. It’s Richie.”

Eddie smilied.

“Nice to meet you Richie. Care to buy me a room?”

“Only if I can sleep there too. And Stan.”

Eddie blinked at him. “What?”

“Stan’s the other one in the car. He’s sleeping in the back seat.” Richie said, giving a haphazard gesture to the backseat. Eddie turned and looked, but didn’t see anything.

“Made you look.”

Eddie swung back around. Richie burst out laughing, clapping against the steering wheel a few times before getting out of the car. Eddie followed, yelling the whole time.

“You know why your name is Richie? ‘Cause you’re a dick!” He cried, smiling despite everything that had happened that day, and the rain that fell onto his face.

“My parents knew what they were doing, baby!” Richie yelled back, locking the car and making his way to the front desk. Eddie skipped up beside him. It felt nice, being able to talk with someone without fear of offending them.

“I hadn’t realized how tall you are.” Eddie murmured, the top of his head barely met Richie’s nose.

“I’m only 6 feet.” Richie said, sounding puzzled.

“ _Still_.” Said Eddie, who was only 5’6”.

The guy behind the counter looked exhausted, but he gave a half-assed smile to Richie and Eddie as they went up to the counter.

“Can I get one room for one night, please.”

The attendant nodded, and started to get the card. “Runaways?” He guessed. He wasn’t judging, just sounded curious.

“Nothin’ to it.” Richie said before Eddie could say anything. “Just a few losers lookin’ for a way out.”

The attendant nodded again, and Eddie figured he didn’t really care, because he didn’t follow up or ask; he just handed the key for the room (number 25) to Richie and went to sit back down.

Luckily for the two of them, the whole motel had one large porch, so they were protected from the rain.

“You didn’t roll the back windows down.” Eddie pointed to Richie’s car.

“I didn’t want to.” Richie said simply, stepping up a set of stairs to their rooms.

(There were 28 in total, 14 on each floor, but #27 was ‘having issues’ according to the paper taped to the door.)

“Voila!” Richie said as he opened the door.

The room wasn’t much, a nice window with curtains, a small table with two chairs, two nightstands on either side of a queen size bed, a painting here and there.

“I’ve never been in a motel before.” Eddie mumbled as he dropped his backpack on the floor. “Or a hotel, for that matter.”

“No? Never on vacation or anything?” Richie’s eyebrows went up just a tad, trying not to act too surprised. He stripped off his leather jacket, revealing an oversized button up with street fighter characters.

“Everyone always came to us.” Eddie shrugged, slipping off his shoes and sweater. He turned and leaped onto the bed collapsing onto it and immediately feeling his body relax into the fabric. Richie let out a chuckle.

Eddie rolled over onto his back and sat up, facing Richie, who was unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt.

“Were you actually picking someone up from Derry?” Eddie asked, probably sounding the most casual he had all night.

“Yeah.” Richie nodded. “You.”

Eddie sorted. “What?”

Richie wandered over to the bed and crawled next to Eddie. Eddie tried not to focus on how close they were. “My brother- he seemed to have figured out you were planning on leaving, go concerned - asked me to find you before you got hurt.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Your brother?”

Richie nodded again. “My brother. His name’s Ben. he’s not my real brother, but he’s just as close. Got three brothers. Only one is actually related.”

“So why-” Eddie frowned. “Why’d you help me? Why was your brother concerned?”

A shrug. “I don’t know. Felt like going on an adventure, knew Derry is famously awful, wanted to help.”

There was a pause, and Eddie turned and laid down on the bed, on his side, back to Richie.

“Derry’s not _that_ bad.”

There was some shuffling from behind Eddie, but he didn’t turn around.

“It’s homophobic as _hell_ , Eds.” Richie grunted. “I mean maybe I’m not used to it cause I’m from San Francisco but _dude_.”

Eddie closed his eyes and tried to picture the Golden Gate Bridge, which was the only landmark from San Francisco he knew. “I’ve never been.”

“I can take you there.” Richie said softly. He must’ve been lying down, his voice wasn’t as clear as it was before. “If you want.”

Eddie felt a soft blush rise on his face. “Would you?”

“Yeah.”

The intimacy in the room dawned on Eddie, then, because Richie’s long arms appeared on Eddie’s back and wrapped around his middle, pulling them together.

“I bought you food and a temporary bed, I deserve to hold you for a little bit.” Richie said, like he needed an excuse.

“I’ve never cuddled before.” Eddie murmured, feeling now that the shuffling from earlier was Richie taking his shirt off. His bare skin was warm to the touch, Eddie could feel it through his own polo.

Richie let out a soft sigh and tucked himself into the junction of Eddie’s shoulder.

“Ben told me to pick you up because he knew we’d get along.” he admitted. “And he thought you’d fit in with all the group.”

“I’ve never had a group of friends before.”

“Is there anything you have done?”

“I’ve run away from home.”

Richie whistled, the sound mellow against Eddie’s neck. “Hot damn.”

Eddie smiled, and gently put his hands over Richie’s, holding them where they were placed over Eddie’s hips. Left hand on Right hip; Right hand on left hip.

“When I woke up this morning, I was so _angry_. And then I was so sad, and then paranoid when I met you, I felt like God hated me.”

“God doesn’t hate anyone, that’s her whole thing.” Richie said, by the sound of his voice, he must’ve been falling asleep.

“But now I feel so... lucid, and clear. And happy. And I don’t know why.”

Richie hummed. “You’re welcome.”

Eddie decided it was best to let him sleep. He was probably on the road for a while, and it was nearly 4:30 in the morning. Eddie reached over, gently shaking from Richie’s grasp, and turned off the lamp next to them. As soon as he settled, Richie spooned him again, and this time he pressed a light kiss to Eddie’s neck.

“Tomorrow we’ll start to Cali.” Richie grumbled.

Eddie looked down at where Richie had laced his fingers with Eddie’s. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Richie was snoring not ten minutes later.

Eddie was awake a bit longer, thinking about everything. His mother, his final words to her, running from home, sulking down the highway. He couldn’t not feel a pang of guilt, doing that to her, but the feeling of Richie wrapped around him made that melt away.

_God doesn’t hate anyone, that’s her whole thing._

Eddie smiled again. He smiled more around the 3 hours he’d known Richie than in the past week.

There was something about Richie. Something about him that made Eddie feel safe. Maybe it was his confidence.

Probably shouldn’t dwell on it. Eddie told himself. He closed his eyes, listening to Richie snoring softly behind him. It was comforting. In his mind, he saw Richie, holding his hand and driving to California. Maybe he’d meet Ben one day. Or Bill. Or Stan, if he was real.

Eddie finally fell asleep, the warmth of Richie’s breath hushed Eddie’s tired mind to finally give way.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Rich isnt ACTUALLY the devil or anything, eds was just paranoid and hella tired  
> 2\. rich IS a dramatic fuck  
> 3\. ????  
> 4\. kisses <3


End file.
